


Theatre Street

by takemetofantasyland



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Canon Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-10-05 11:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20488211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takemetofantasyland/pseuds/takemetofantasyland
Summary: Funny when a city tells you when it's time to go. A series of episodes based on Theatre Street in St. Petersburg. Mostly pre-canon to the Once Upon a December sequence.Canon Compliant.





	1. Dmitry i

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of a collection of episodes of events happening on and around Theatre Street, in the heart of St. Petersburg, Russia. 
> 
> Stick with me until we pick up some traction here! :)

Dirt crunched beneath his boots as he walked and the air was heavy, weighing on his lungs with every breath. His pace was slow, mind absent, wondering just where he would go from here. His shirt clung to his back in the summer heat, and his hair stuck to his forehead in a disorder he couldn’t be bothered to fix now. 

Murmurs between merchants had changed to cheers, whispers between women had turned to jeering, and his ears rang as he walked, alone. 

Dmitry shook his head to clear his thoughts. He couldn’t afford to let his mind wander so far from what was right in front of him. 

His heart raced at the thought of uncertainty, and what implementing the New Order might mean for him—for all of them. Bolshevik officers promised under the New Order everyone would be equal, and happier. There would be no one family to take from all of them, and they might finally get an equal share of what was rightfully theirs. Dmitry failed to see how it could be so, but he kept his mouth shut. At least, for now. 

He supposed they could only be right. The Imperial family had somehow finagled an economic system with no trickle down, leaving their people tired and grasping at table scraps. Dmitry knew the feeling of going to bed on an empty stomach very well. Officers assured citizens and dwellers that would no longer be the case. 

But Dmitry still carried a chip on his shoulder. He knew, like his father before him knew, you couldn’t fix these things overnight. He knew things could still go terribly wrong, it only took a power hungry leader. 

Dmitry ducked into an ally to get away from the crowd. He rummaged in his pocket and looked down at the few coins he had. He counted them again, to keep his mind busy. The thick summer air made it hard to breathe, or perhaps he just couldn’t bring himself to celebrate the downfall of the Tsar and his family while the streets of St. Petersburg filled with crowds cheering the death of a man, and his innocent family. 

And suddenly, he felt his stomach drop, and he swallowed hard. He envisioned a girl he had only caught a glimpse of years ago. Her brassy hair perfectly coiffed, and sitting so tall in the back of an automobile when she was only eight years old. The way her lips curled into a smile as she giggled, quickly covering her mouth with her hand to keep her regal composure, it was a memory he would never shake, no matter how terrible the Imperial family had turned out to be for all of them.

He would never forget her brilliant blue eyes catching his gaze, or the way she looked back at him as he dropped on his knee to bow.

He knew it was wrong, or at least, now he knew he shouldn’t have done it, but in the back of his mind knowing the young grand duchess smiled as she looked at him, he didn’t regret it. 

Tears welled in the corners of his eyes and he brushed them away. How foolish he was to think of the Grand Duchess Anastasia when she hardly knew of his existence

He cleared his throat as he leaned against a wall on Theatre Street. He carefully reminded himself that the Tsar’s daughters couldn’t have known any better. It wasn’t their fault. They were just born into a bloodline that would be judged harshly by time and progression. 

Dmitry sunk to his knees in the alley and sat alone. He held his head in his hands as he tried to shake the thought of Anastasia. 

Dirt crunching beneath heavy boots startled Dmitry and he snapped his head up to look to see who was coming. Bolshevik officers passed by the alley, making an attempt at crowd control. Dmitry caught the stupid grins on their faces, and something in him knew they were not as honest as they claimed to be. He pulled himself to his feet, knowing he must look quite suspicious standing all alone on an empty street. He knew better. 

There was a part of him that didn’t know where he was supposed to go next or what he was supposed to do. With so much uncertainty in the city, it would be easy to abandon it all together. 

And suddenly he knew where he needed to be. 

Dmitry dusted himself off and continued down Theatre Street to the Griboyedov Channel. He found himself standing at an old bench he had known almost his entire life. It was a place he came to think. A place he used to come with his father as a boy. 

As he stood, watching the water flow beneath the bridge, he cleared his mind. It was hard to find quiet in a city so large. It was so easy to get lost. 

His shoulders dropped as he watched the water flow, and suddenly an invisible tether to this city weighed him down again. He didn’t have a family or own any significant property here. Nothing was holding him here, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

With a heavy exhale, he turned back. Something in him told him to stay, even when his heart was heavy and he was so free to move as the Neva flowed. 

His feet were heavy as he passed through Theatre Street once again. The crowd in the square was starting to disband, and people peeled off and into the streets. 

Dmitry walked alone, passing a group of women on the street. He caught the gaze of a small woman with messy curls pulled away from her face in a braid, her eyes luring as she passed him. She was huddled with several other women, but as she passed her attention was on him. 

His heart pounded in his chest, wondering how everyone could treat this as normal. Everything was about to change for all of them, and no one batted an eye.


	2. Marfa i

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those not as familiar with the show, this chapter is focused on the hussies seen in St. Petersburg in the show.

Hair primped and wearing her best stockings, Marfa pulled her coat around her in the chill of the autumn air. The waiting didn’t bother her these days. It had become routine. She kicked her boot at the ground, she had settled in so well she didn’t even need to keep an eye out on the street anymore for potential clients. 

She stood and waited and one of the merchants who sold fine furs would meet her on Theatre Street. 

He wasn’t her favorite customer by any measure, but he paid extremely well, and she wasn’t willing to let that go. And sometimes she could make off with a fur at the end of it, too. 

Marfa leaned against the wall and waited. She pulled a bit of tobacco from her pocket and tucked it into her cheek. She tucked her hands into her pockets, watching men walking home for the evening from their places of work. 

Among the evening rush, a young woman rounded the corner onto Theatre Street in a huff. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets, her messy, sandy curls were falling out of their pins. 

Marfa watched the woman, her brow arching. This woman seemed oblivious to the fact that a number of them were standing on the street in their stake of the street. She paused, leaned against the wall as she swept stray hair out of her eyes and caught her breath. 

Marfa clicked her tongue. Clients were already so scarce in this part of the city, she couldn’t help but defend her ground. Marfa pulled herself up and straightened out as she approached the woman. 

“Can I help you?” Marfa asked, her brow knitting as she neared the woman who had so nonchalantly broken so many unspoken rules of the street. 

The woman turned and looked at her, “No.” She leaned down to fix her stocking, “but thank you.”

Marfa crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight to her other hip. “I was being polite, but perhaps I should be more forward,” Marfa scoffed, “what do you think you’re doing here?”

The woman smoothed her skirts down and straightened out. She crossed her arms as she looked at Marfa. “It’s been days since there’s been work by the old palace,” the woman replied. 

“Why is that my problem?” Marfa asked. 

“I never said it was your problem,” the woman asserted. “You made it your problem.”

Marfa felt her mouth gape. She shook her head to collect her thoughts. Maybe this woman just didn’t understand in this business you had to defend your territory. 

“There’s a number of us who already hang out on this street, we can’t afford another,” Marfa snapped. 

The woman sighed nonchalantly. “Says who?”

Marfa balled her hands into fists. This woman would not give up this fight. Marfa peered over he shoulder, watching for her client. 

“Rumor has it they don’t patrol this street as heavily,” the woman replied. 

“So?” Marfa snapped. 

“Marfa, lay off,” a woman called down to them. “Your insistent bickering is going to set off the patrol officers. 

Marfa frowned and crossed her arms. She glared at this new woman who apparently decided this was her new place to stake out. 

Marfa leaned against the wall and her shoulders dropped. 

The woman stood, shifting her weight, lips curling into a satisfied grin. 

Marfa frowned. She didn’t know why she was so worked up over this woman. She had her established clients, and that was all she had to worry about. 

In the distance Marfa heard a truck backfire. She was so used to it she didn’t even flinch anymore. 

The woman beside her looked around with a bit of concern. She was checking the reactions of the other women on the street to see if they were worried. 

“Er-?” The woman said, looking at Marfa. 

Marfa ignored her. She didn’t need the weight of explaining every little thing to someone who up and decided this was now her place to solicit. 

Heavy footsteps neared the corner and the woman beside her caught on quickly. She was still and her stupid, satisfied grin wiped off her face as she was riddled with concern. 

“Let’s go,” she tugged on Marfa’s sleeve. 

Marfa looked at her as she pulled her arm away. “It was a truck backfiring, happens all the time,” Marfa muttered. 

“No, I think the patrol officers are coming,” the woman watched the shilouette on the sidewalk of a man. 

Marfa arched her brow and turned over her shoulder to look where the woman was looking. Marfa gasped and the women soliciting on the street quickly disbanded. 

Officers on foot strolled down the street, maintaining the status quo. 

The woman walked away with her head down, and linked her arm through Marfa’s. She held her arm, walking close as if they were good friends or sisters. 

Marfa turned back to look at Theatre Street as the woman pulled her away, pulling off a casual stroll. 

“How did you–?” Marfa’s mouth gaped as she looked at her. 

“By the palace the officers are always sniffing around,” the woman replied. “They’re always looking for robbers and con men and us women aren’t far behind on their list,”

Marfa’s brow softened as she looked at the woman. She was struck with admiration. Her irritation with this woman who had walked onto her street because her own was growing stale dissolved. 

The two women walked along the channel. Marfa stared down at the water to calm her mind. As they walked, she spotted a young man sitting on a bench facing the channel. She could see him, but she wondered if he could see her, too. 

He pulled his cap off and ran his fingers through his hair. Marfa bit her lip, as much as she saw him charming women in the market square, she knew he would never put his pride aside and meet a woman on Theatre Street. 

Marfa shook her head and turned back to the woman beside her. “What’s your name?” Marfa asked. 

The woman started and turned to look at her. “Paulina,” the woman replied. 

“Marfa,” Marfa replied, offering her a hand to shake. 

“What’re you going to do, kick me off your street?” Paulina teased as she shook her hand. 

“No you’ve got a sharp eye, the least I could do it let you stay,” Marfa laughed as he lips curled into a smile. 

“You can keep what you’ve got going on, I won’t interfere–” Paulina reassured her. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Marfa smiled as she walked with Paulina. “What’s mine is yours.”

“Oh, I didn’t–” Paulina surrendered, unsure if it was a bait and switch. 

“I’m serious,” Marfa grinned. “When we round back to the street, I’ll show you who’s a good lay,”

Paulina laughed and her cheeks flushed. 

Marfa laughed as she walked. She didn’t let her walls down easily, but something in her saw a piece of herself in Paulina. And Paulina could be useful to the girls going forward. 

Marfa released Paulina’s arm and pulled her coat around her. Paulina followed along and they rounded back to the market place while they waited the patrol out. 


	3. Dmitry & Marfa i

Marfa stood alone on Theatre Street, waiting. Paulina said she would be here by now, but the fact that she wasn’t meant she had gotten tied up somewhere in the marketplace. Paulina built relationships by being chatty with merchants and women in the square, and Marfa knew she had likely gotten stuck chatting at one of the textile merchants’ booths. 

Marfa leaned against the wall and waited. There wasn’t much she could do until Paulina got there. She sighed and her shoulders dropped as she closed her eyes. 

She snapped back and started as she heard a scuffle down the street. Her ears perked, her interest piqued, she was now listening carefully–she could never be too comfortable with the officers always snooping around. 

There were quick footsteps, officers shouting, and a young man’s laughter down the street, coming from the square. Marfa watched the end of the street as the voices sounded like they were coming closer. 

Suddenly, a man came tearing down Theatre Street with a grin on his face and the rush of his own adrenaline carrying his own two feet. He came to a quick halt and bent in half to catch his breath. Officers passed the street and Marfa looked down at the man doubled down beside her. 

“Hey! No!” Marfa cried as she realized who was standing beside her. 

He shoved something in his pocket and straightened out, grinning devilishly at her. 

His chest heaved and he managed, “how’s it going down here?”

“You can’t come down here! Especially not if the officers are after you!” Marfa snapped. 

“Says who?” He grinned. “You don’t own this street. Everyone is equal now.” He mocked. 

Marfa reached up and gripped the front of his vest and pulled him down to her eye level, “Dmitry, you can’t lead the police down this street where we’ve staked out. It’ll set them off.”

He pulled out of her grip as his pulse regulated. Dmitry pulled his cap off and ran his fingers through his hair. “Why are you worried?” he quipped as he paced around the street. 

“What did you steal, Dmitry?” Marfa asked, resting her hands on her hips, and shifting her weight. 

“Nothing!” Dmitry snapped. His eyebrow arched and his lip curled as he held his latest piece in his pocket.

“Why were you running from the police, then?” Marfa asked. 

“They just stick their noses where they shouldn’t,” Dmitry threw his hands out.

“It’s their job,” Marfa crossed her arms over her chest. 

“And mine is to put my nose where I shouldn’t. See how this isn’t working out for me?”

Marfa rolled her eyes and scoffed. 

“Please, Marfa, I have yet to see General Vaganov actually arrest someone,” Dmitry scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“You know the different officers by name? Oh God, Dmitry, you need to go–” Marfa reached out and gently tried to push him away. 

“Only Vaganov,” Dmitry replied matter-of-factly. “He stands out in the square all self-important, like him telling me I should appreciate the New Order is actually going to make me appreciate the New Order.”

Marfa’s face softened and she laughed. Dmitry smiled as he watched her laugh. They had to find light in each other in these difficult times. 

Marfa smoothed her skirts and straightened out. “What are you doing down here, anyway?” 

“I knew the police generally avoid this street all together,” Dmitry smirked as he straightened his vest. 

Marfa smiled and shook her head. He was always so cunning and clever. 

A young woman rounded the corner and Marfa’s face softened with relief. Dmitry turned over his shoulder to look behind him. 

The woman looked at Dmitry and then at Marfa.

“What is he doing down here?” she asked as she gestured to Dmitry. 

“Relax, Polly, he’s just hiding out from Vaganov.” Marfa replied softly. 

“Hiding from Vaganov? And what if he comes down here?” Paulina demanded. She glanced around the street, knowing that where criminals went the police were close behind. 

“He won’t,” Dmitry replied. “I think being so close to so many women might kill him.”

Marfa choked down her own laughter. 

Paulina looked Dmitry over. He was a puzzle no one in St. Petersburg could seem to figure out. He was always on a con, smooth-talking merchants in the square and making deals that clearly were only to his benefit. And yet as much as he spoke out against the revolution, he was still starry-eyed, and she wondered what it was that kept him so hopeful in a city that was downright dreadful. 

“The sun is going down, I should be on my way, leave you two to your business,” Dmitry said as he pulled his cap back on and fixed the strap on his shoulder bag. 

“You don’t have to, we’ve got a couple hours to go,” Marfa shrugged. 

“Don’t want to make things more difficult for you two than I already have,” he smiled softly as he started down the street. 

He took a second glance at Paulina, carefully analyzing her features. Her eyes were blue but just not the right blue. Or perhaps he had forgotten with time. There was a certain familiarity in her face, but just not enough familiarity. 

Paulina arched her brow as she looked back at him. 

Dmitry shook his head to clear his thoughts as he realized he had been staring. He continued on his way down the street. 

“Have a good evening,” he called back, holding a hand up to wave to Marfa. 

Marfa smiled as she watched him go. Paulina neared her, and stood by her side. 

“You let him hang around here and he wasn’t even going to pay?” Paulina asked, placing her hands on her hips. 

“He never does, he’s not interested,” Marfa said softly as she watched him disappear beyond the street. “He’s just an old acquaintance.”

“He’s a bit strange,” Paulina scoffed. She turned back to the street and took a few paces from Marfa. 

“Always has been,” Marfa replied. “He’s looking for something, I’m just not quite sure what it is.”


	4. Gleb i

His heart pounded in his chest beneath the wool coat that stiffened his shoulders and straightened his back. He held his breath as his heavy boots crunched in the snow. The green of his coat made his stomach twist, and had grown synonymous with power, regime, and the new order that held him to higher standards and expectations. He closed his eyes. He was on the right side of history. He had to remind himself of that. 

He carefully fixed his glove to cover the strip of bare skin on his wrist that had been exposed to the harsh winter air and cleared his throat. 

With a hard swallow, he approached the square. The knowing grins of the other soldiers as assignments were handed out were still burned in his memory as he was given Theatre square and the surrounding area to patrol. 

He shook his head to shake the memories of the soldiers whispering and bumping shoulders and laughing as they glanced back at him. He shook his head to shake his doubts. He was only here to follow orders. He was only here to make his father proud. All he could do was do a routine patrol and keep his nose clean for Gorlinsky. 

Theatre Square was known to be the worst area of the city to have to patrol. The market place was riddled with con artists and vendors selling items from the palace on the black market. The citizens in that part of Leningrad would do anything in exchange for a meal and a place to sleep. Next to the old Yusupov Palace, it was absolutely riddled with crimes and wrongdoings. He did his best to keep it in control, but there was no way one officer could squash it all on his own. 

And then there were the women soliciting on the corner of Theatre Street, who he had grown to resent. They called and jeered at him as he chased them off the street corners, as if he was just playing a game with them. A few short days, and they would be right back on the street corners. 

And somehow, they had grown to resent him. All he heard were complaints of how hungry people were, how awful it was sleeping on the floor of a sheltered building. He thought they should be grateful they were no longer sleeping on the streets like they were when the Tsar was in power. 

Gleb straightened his coat and exhaled as he straightened his shoulders and headed down the street. He just had to establish himself as an authority figure. 

He marched himself down Theatre street and found two women huddled together. 

“Good evening,” He nodded to them. 

“Good evening officer,” one woman replied. Her dark hair was braided back, and her coat was much too large for her small frame. The woman beside her, messy blonde hair pinned up with her coat pulled around her, turned to look over her shoulder. 

“Pretty late to be out here on the street, isn’t it?” Gleb held his stance. 

“We’re on our way home, officer,” the woman replied coldly.

“Perhaps I could walk you?” Gleb offered, “The hour is late, I wouldn’t wish harm on either of you.”

“We’re fine,” the woman replied and turned back to her friend. “But thank you.”

Gleb felt a knot in his throat. He was taken aback by her resisting. He swallowed and grit his teeth, holding his composure in front of the two women. 

“Comrade, I mean you no harm, but perhaps moving along would get you home a bit faster,” Gleb suggested. 

“Or what?” she challenged. 

Gleb grit his teeth. Usually women didn’t push back so hard on him trying to move them along. He didn’t have a response ready. 

“Or- I’ll have no choice but to arrest you!” he threatened. 

“Arrest me? For what?” the woman smirked. “Polly and I were just on our way home, officer, surely that isn’t against the law?”

He felt his blood boil, and this fight nearly didn’t feel worth it. But he had reasonable cause to believe these women were soliciting on the street, even if they didn’t look like it at this very moment. 

“I have asked you kindly, miss-” Gleb began. 

He paused as a young man hurried down the street and slung his bag over his shoulder. He paused and looked from the two young women to Gleb and his eyes scanned over Gleb.

“Sorry, that took longer than expected,” he mumbled to the young woman. 

“It’s fine, let’s go,” she replied as she smirked at Gleb. 

The man glanced at Gleb, and fixed his cap on his head. 

“Wait!” Gleb called as the three turned to walk down the street. “Hold it right there.”

The three froze in place. 

“Look at me!” Gleb ordered. 

They did as they were told. Gleb’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Marfa and Paulina. “You two,” he began, as he gently tilted Paulina’s chin with his finger, “what’s your name?” he asked Paulina. 

Paulina trembled at his touch, “I don’t have to tell you that!” 

“You may want to rethink resisting authority, comrade,” Gleb replied as he turned away from her. 

Paulina’s shoulders dropped with relief as he released her.

“The next time I catch you two loitering around this street, I’ll have you arrested for soliciting! Is that clear?” Gleb glared at Marfa and Paulina. 

“And you!” Gleb pointed at Dmitry, “Don’t think I don’t know who you are! I see you setting up little schemes and plans to turn for a few Rubles. Don’t think I don’t notice! And don’t let me catch you in one of your schemes again, or I’ll have you thrown in jail with these two!” Gleb pointed at Marfa and Paulina. 

“Aye, Aye, officer” Dmitry replied as he pretended to salute to Gleb. 

Gleb balled his hand into a fist. “You’re a disgrace,” Gleb spat at Dmitry. Dmitry stuck his tongue out. 

“Now go home, all of you!” Gleb snapped. 

“Goodnight, officer,” Marfa smirked as she linked her arm through Paulina’s. 

Gleb rolled his eyes as he watched the three of them walk off together. He let out a sigh as they disappeared from view. He heard Dmitry’s voice mocking him down the street and Marfa’s shrill laughter. 

“Did you hear that Marfa, he’s going to arrest you for standing on the street!” Dmitry taunted. 

“Oh no, Dmitry, they’re locking people up for just standing places now!” Marfa teased. 

Gleb felt his blood boil. They didn’t take him seriously. No one did. 

It disappointed him that Marfa was as keen on resisting as she was. She was sharp minded, and he only wished she had chosen a career of use, rather than selling herself illegally on the street. 

And even more so that it appeared that she had started working with Dmitry Sudayev, the bane of his existence. Dmitry was always getting his nose into trouble, and if only he could catch him with enough evidence to put him in jail, he would do it without hesitation. But Dmitry was smart and left a clean trail, and no evidence of a crime. 

He fixed his gloves and straightened his coat, and watched as the silhouette of the three down the street. If she was going to resist the new order, and choose to put herself on the wrong side of history, so be it.    
  



	5. Anya i

There was a certain numbness in her feet where they no longer ached from walking. Her feet had carried her from Odessa to St. Petersburg, and not without incident. The soles of her boots were worn, and she could only hope they would make it through the winter. 

She was tired, and if she could just lay down to rest she thought maybe she would be alright. She hadn’t slept in a real bed since she had left the hospital years ago, and as she began to forget the feeling of living in comfort, she knew everything was temporary, and eventually her all her memories would fade. They always had, leaving her with a ghost or a whisper that would lead to a flashback. 

Anya, or so she had been called by the nurses at the hospital, knew her feet couldn’t carry her much farther. Her instincts began to kick in and she began to hunt for a bench or a small place to curl up for the night. Lucky for her, she was small, and could fit herself into spaces that could protect her from the harshness of the world. 

She knew temperatures were starting to drop, though she wasn’t sure the day or the month. Her heart pounded as she walked, blood coursing through her to keep her warm in the bleak Russian winter. 

As Anya walked, she passed an officer patrolling the street and he nodded to her. She nodded back. She liked to keep her nose in line. 

Anya ducked into an alley, or perhaps a small street. For this late hour, it seemed to be pretty well occupied. Anya didn’t know St. Petersburg, or Leningrad as she had now seen it on a map, as well as she knew Odessa. She didn’t know the parts of the city she should avoid, and where she might be able to work for a meal or a place to sleep. 

Women lined the street, and appeared to be waiting for something. She wasn’t sure why but this space felt safe. 

She warmed her hands by breathing on her gloves and searched for a place where it wouldn’t hurt so much to lay down. 

“Sorry, who are you?” A woman asked as Anya passed by. 

Anya gasped, unsure what this woman’s motive was. She was a skeptic, she hated that about herself, but she had no other choice. In these troubling times, every person was out for himself, and she was no different. But she also didn’t want to fall victim to a plot or a scheme. “I am just looking for a place to sleep,” Anya replied. 

The woman glanced around, and lowered her voice, “you look terrible, comrade. I know a place where perhaps you can spend the night, and get some rest.”

The woman took a hair pin out of her messy updo and fixed it back in her hair. 

Anya looked at her with wide eyes. To have a restful sleep these days was considered a luxury. 

The woman smirked, “Meet me back here in a little bit, once some of these women have cleared out.”

Anya nodded. She was grateful. 

“Do you work?” The woman asked. 

“Very hard, I would do anything,” Anya said quickly. She clasped her hands together to keep them warm.

“Anything?” The woman asked and she arched her brow. 

“Yes,” Anya replied firmly. “I have worked in a hospital, I have washed dishes, I am willing to do anything.”

The woman’s face softened. There were some things she should keep to herself. “Alright. Meet me back here and remind me in the morning. I know someone looking for an extra pair of hands.”

“In this city?” Anya asked. 

“It is rare, but he pays well, comrade.” The woman nodded. 

“Thank you,” Anya nodded. 

“Remember, meet me back here.”

Anya nodded. She continued down the street, and found herself in a square. How anyone found a home in this city, she wasn’t sure. It was so large, too large, and cold. There was nothing comforting about it and yet all these people continued to call it their home. 

She took a stroll along the river and rounded herself back to Theatre street. Sure she was at least an hour later. 

The same woman was standing under a street lamp. 

Anya cleared her throat. The woman turned to look at her. “Oh, it’s you.”

The woman looked around and motioned for Anya to follow her. Anya did as she was told and blindly followed the woman around the corner to a small door. 

The woman gently knocked on the door and pressed her ear against the door to listen. She nodded to Anya and opened the door. 

Anya found herself in an empty room with the woman. There were sacks of dry lentils in the room and old blankets. Anya looked at the woman. 

“The girls are all out working tonight. You can sleep here just for tonight, but when Marfa comes home at dawn, you have to go.” The woman said as she glanced around the room. 

“What about you?” Anya asked. 

“I’m meeting someone in a few. He’s running a bit late tonight.” the woman replied. She glanced at the door as she pulled her wool shawl around her. 

“And you are?” Anya asked. 

“Paulina. But don’t tell anyone I let you in here—I’ll deny it.”

Anya smiled, “Thank you for your kindness.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Paulina replied. “Oh, and in the morning, meet me in the square. I meet a gentleman down there in the morning. I bring him coffee in the morning from the cafe. He’s looking for a street sweeper. I think you might suit the job quite well, you say you’re a hard worker. What should I tell him your name is?”

Anya stared blankly at the woman. “Oh, er-Anya.”

“Anya?”

Anya nodded.

Paulina nodded. “I better go, sleep well tonight, comrade.” 

Anya smiled as she watched Paulina leave. She glanced around the room, noticing blankets piled in the corners of the room, and clothes strewn across the floor. There was an assortment of garters and fancy undergarments, and Anya thought back to the woman on the street.

These women were soliciting on the street. 

Anya was grateful for Paulina’s kindness, but was sure she could never do that sort of work. She was desperate for money, that was certain, but she could never see herself waiting out in the cold for a man to offer to take her home. 

Anya picked up a couple blankets and arranged them on the floor. It had been some time since she had a blanket to use, and to her that was enough of a luxury for tonight. She gently laid down with a pile of blankets, and what she thought was a sack of beans behind her. She pulled the blanket over her and closed her eyes. 

She hadn’t realized how tired she actually was, and now that she was on the floor, she felt immediate relief in her feet. 

Her eyelids were heavy and she slipped into a deep sleep almost immediately. She didn’t consider St. Petersburg her home. But she could get used to it for now. 


End file.
